“Suddenly my mother wanted me with her all the time. She didn’t want me with Nadia even though Nadia was the one who kept our house running . . . the one who felt like a mom to me. And then my mother started grooming me to be the girl she thought I needed to be, the adult she wanted me to be. She told me how to act and what to say, who to see and not to see. She told me what I would need to look for in a husband one day . . . all while they constantly used me for my voice. Anytime we were anywhere, ‘Have you heard Briar’s voice? Briar, sing for this gentleman.’” That bitterness in her eyes burned as she continued. “And soon, men my father’s age wanted to touch my hand or my arm, the small of my back or the back of my thigh. They wanted me to stand closer to them so they could accidentally brush my breast or tease my waist as they showed me pictures and made me read contracts while they caged me against the desk to read over my shoulder.”
I was vibrating as white-hot rage coursed through my veins, as visuals I didn’t want flashed through my mind. I already had a bullet for every single one of those men, and I didn’t even know their names.
“‘Just remember to keep smiling at him, Briar,’ my mother would say. ‘Don’t wear those pants, Briar, a skirt is more fitting for this meeting—a shorter skirt. He didn’t mean to touch you, Briar, he was just reaching for the paper. We could’ve had a record deal years ago if you would just keep your mouth shut, Briar.’ It was endless for years, and I began hating my voice and my parents’ money as they paid off man after man at these record labels so they wouldn’t sue us because I’d thrown coffee on one or kneed another when they touched me.
“And throughout that time, Nadia was the only one on my side. She’d sneak into my room at night, lie down next to me, and sing until I was singing with her. Then she’d repeat the words she’d said to me before it had all begun. On my eighteenth birthday, I walked in on my mother handing Nadia a check and telling her not to contact me ever again. But Nadia was so much more than my nanny. She was my best friend, my mom, my teacher—she was everything. I didn’t think she would give in to my mother’s demands . . . but she did. I never heard from her again. And I’ve never let anyone use my voice, or intentionally hear it, since. I didn’t sing for an entire year after that morning.”
“Briar . . .” I said softly and began reaching out for her but stopped at the look she gave me. A look that told me she was just getting started.
“I never told Kyle any of that.” She whispered so quietly the words were almost lost by the time they reached me, and I tried not to react to the mention of the man waiting for her in Atlanta. “I never felt like I could—I didn’t think he would understand because he continuously pushed the issue no matter how many times I asked him to stop. He always wanted me to keep singing, and he always wondered why I wouldn’t. But only because he was so sure that with my voice, I could have whatever I wanted. He never realized that I sang when I was scared, or that I was scared of my voice. He thought I was afraid of failing.”
She closed the distance between us, each step slow and calculated. Once she was close enough, I slid one hand around her waist and the other around the back of her neck, using her hair to tilt her head back so I could study those eyes that captivated me.
“I hate that you have so much money that you buy women. I hate that you bought me at all, but mostly that you bought me because I started singing. I hate the circumstances that brought me to you, but I love you and am thankful I’m here with you all the same.”
My chest ached and filled with warmth. I wanted to kiss her and thank her for trusting me with her past. I wanted to erase every bad memory and replace them with ones of us now, but she didn’t realize what she’d just said . . .
As much as I wanted what she was saying to be true, it wasn’t, and it never would be. It couldn’t.
“You don’t,” I said thickly, forcing the words out through the tightness in my throat.
Confusion covered her face and her brows drew together. “I don’t what?”
“You don’t love me.”
I felt the shock that went through her body, but she didn’t try to pull away from me. Instead, she gripped my shirt in her hands like she was pleading with me in her touch alone.
“Lucas . . .”
My eyes slid shut, and I released a slow, weighted breath. “You don’t, Briar.”
“I know you think you don’t know how to love someone, but you do, you have been. You know what love is, and I have never been more aware of how loved I am by someone than I am by you.”
I ground my jaw and finally looked at her again. Instead of disagreeing with her, I said, “You can’t love me, because you don’t know me.”
I hated the hurt in her eyes. I hated that I was putting it there. I hated everything I was, hated that I would never be enough for the girl I didn’t know how to let go of. Couldn’t let go of.
“Yes, I do,” she choked out. “I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it, I’ve experienced your darkness and your monsters, and I’m still here. Haven’t I proven myself yet? Haven’t I proven I am not going anywhere? That you can’t make me run?” Her gripping hands flattened and moved up to curve around my neck. “I knew to fall in love with you I had to fall in love with the devil, too. I am not as na?ve as you think I am.”
“But you have no idea exactly how heartless your devil is,” I said darkly.
“Then let me see—”
“I won’t let you into that part of my world,” I said on a growl. Just the thought of her being in a situation to see me like that—to see that part of my world—chilled me in a way that made me feel sick. “All of this will change the minute you see it. Trust me when I say you’ll never be able to look at me the same, and I won’t be able to live with myself if that day ever comes.”
“You can’t know that,” she argued, her words still sounding like a plea.
“Think of your worst memories with me, Blackbird,” I ordered gently. “Think of what I told you about the shootout with my brothers. Think about what William did to you. Now try to grasp that all of that is nothing compared to what I have done, and what I do, without feeling a thing.”
I waited for it to sink in, and after a few moments, it did. And there was that look in her eyes I’d come to dread and hate—fear and uncertainty. But I could still see her love for me.
Unfailing and undeserving.
“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” she finally asked as tears filled her eyes. “The darkest part of your soul terrifies me, but, Lucas, I’m not going anywhere.”
One day, she would. One day this illusion would shatter. And on that day? She would go running back to the man I knew was still waiting for her. Didn’t she realize that allowing myself to fall in love with her only for her to be ripped away from me was something I couldn’t let happen?
Losing her had broken me.
Losing Briar would destroy me.
Chapter 32
Shadow
Briar
After making a sandwich, I downed a bottle of water as I padded through the house to the office then cracked another bottle open when I sat down in front of the computer.
I’d spent hours outside, alternating between swimming and just lying on one of the chairs, soaking up the sun. After the first morning Lucas had taken me out back, I had spent nearly every day out there. The days I didn’t think I could take any more sun without getting heatstroke, I lay in the cabana reading.
Anything to be outside.
I slowly picked at my sandwich as I opened up Lucas’s e-mail and started one to him.
He had given me his credit card number a few weeks ago, but I didn’t want to have control of his money.